Caught
by Neptune's Mask
Summary: Home alone, Michiru's thoughts turn to Haruka, but the blonde racer isn't home. What's a girl to do? Rated M for a reason. Sprite. Haruka x Michiru


Caught

Disclaimer: I do not own Haruka or Michiru, they belong to Takeuchi Naoko-sama.

Warning: I call it Sprite, and others refer to it as a lemon. Shoujou-ai actually. So if you're too immature or young, please move on, myself and other authors have plenty of stories without this content, otherwise, enjoy.

Michiru had an itch that was driving all other rational thought out of her mind. She fidgeted, and tried to let her attention drift back to the paintbrush in her hand, but it just wasn't working today. She and Haruka had both been rather stressed and busy lately, so they had had very little time to themselves, and the strain was beginning to take its toll on the talented painter and violinist. She missed her koibito's hands and lips and touch, oh kami-sama, her touch. Every time they made love, Michiru was reminded why Haruka was such an amazing piano player. Those hands, those hands knew exactly what notes to play, in exactly what order, rhythm, and pace. A gasp escaped her lips when her aching body recalled those hands so clearly, and she realized it was time to set down the paintbrush.

Michiru lightly bit her lower lip. It was so unlike her to lose control, except with Haruka, and she was at a loss of what to do. Her head felt a little faint, and her skin was humming with desire. She was sure that were she to look in her eyes right now, they would be sapphire, and swirling with want. Haruka. Michiru let herself into their bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and approached their bed. This was torture, honestly. She lay down; sliding her dress off of her slim shoulders, and down past her toned, swimmer's legs as she went. Her flesh was heated and slightly slick, and her eyes were only half open, as she let her desperate hands roam her needy body. Her hands were Haruka's hands, slowly rising to tease her right breast through her soft lace bra, coaxing a nipple out to play. Haruka loved to tease her.

She let her racing mind relive certain moments with Haruka, each becoming more intensely erotic. She could clearly see her own face when Haruka would bite her neck softly, and then not so softly when her back would arch beneath her blonde lover. She could almost feel Haruka's breath rasping against her, feel her fingertips dancing over her, and into her, oh god and into her. Haruka always knew just how to make her lose all dignity, and beg. Michiru tugged her bra off now, lightly licking a fingertip to mimic Haruka's tongue when the other woman would put that amazing mouth to use at her nipples, and shivered, remembering times she had done just that.

A part of her brain was surprised at herself, but now that she had started, she needed more. She slipped her silky underwear down and off of her shapely hips, her heart beating erratically in her chest, and her pulse sky high, but it didn't matter, all that mattered was the flight of her fingers down, down her torso and abdomen, down further still, until,

"Oh," she moaned softly at the first touch of her right index finger fluttering across her slick, heated, and overly sensitive clitoris.

The next thing she knew, her hips seemed to be moving of their own accord, and her moans and pants, and quiet gasps were louder, the flurry of her hands more frantic. Michiru's index and middle finger of her right hand were plunging into her core, faster now, and Haruka's face was the only thing she could see behind closed eyes as she neared that type of ecstasy one only could achieve with their dearest love.

"Oh Haruka!" she called out, so close she could almost taste her goal.

This was the sight that greeted Haruka.

She had come home early from a race, eager to see Michiru as they hadn't been able to spend much time together lately, and the only real contact they had was at night just before they fell asleep from exhaustion. She sorely missed her Michiru's arms. What a surprise for her, when what should her puzzled ears first hear upon coming home, but strange noises coming from the bedroom she and Michiru shared.

Every tendon, joint, and muscle in Haruka went rigid as a sheet of steel. This could not be happening. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her teeth grinding against one another as she prepared herself for what she might find behind that door. She opened the door on silent hinges, her eyes screwed shut against the betrayal seemingly taking place there, until she heard her name all but screamed.

Haruka's eyes flew open at that point, and her gasp of surprise quickly turned to a low, husky moan born of desperation and need.

She could hardly believe the scene before her, and would never have thought it possible had she not seen it for herself. Her Michiru had her head thrown back in obvious pleasure, her hands igniting her own passions, one teasing her breast and rubbing her nipple, the other circling around the apex of her sex, occasionally dipping a finger into herself, her hips moving like something possessed, and her beautiful voice calling out Haruka's name as she touched herself. Even from where she stood, Haruka could see the glistening of Michiru's arousal, could smell her distinct scent mixed with the beginning of sex, and could feel her own wetness now soaking her underwear.

Oh yes, clothes, why was she still wearing clothes when her koibito so clearly needed her attention? Haruka struggled to remove her jacket and shirt and bra, fumbling with those damned obstacles, and unfastened her pants before removing the boy-short type underwear she wore. She craved the taste of Michiru's lips and skin, and the sensation of her skin against that of Michiru's.

Feeling the bed shift under another's weight, Michiru panicked, and opened her eyes quickly to find herself face to face with her nearly panting lover.

"H-Haruka?" she all but squeaked in embarrassment, attempting to cover herself with anything.

"Michi," Haruka managed to choke out before sliding up the lust-moistened form beneath her. She was fascinated by the warmth that emanated from Michiru's skin, it was like heated, living marble, and she never wanted to stop kissing or touching it.

No more words were needed as record time found one of Haruka's hands in Michiru's hair, and the other wrapped around her waist, her greedy lips pressed against those of the painter. Michiru moaned into Haruka's mouth, feverish in her need, her hands moving up and down the racer's back, branding each and every inch of her as they shifted around to cup her sensitive breasts, just barely scratching the sides and underneath with her nails. It was Haruka's turn to moan, but she wasn't about to give up her position. Michiru was rarely _this_ responsive and Haruka had never heard her koibito so vocal before, and Haruka had never known herself to be so strongly affected by that particular aspect of her girlfriend before, thus, she was going to do everything in her power to extend this as long as possible.

She began to lightly suck and nibble on Michiru's lower lip, letting the hand that was not fisted in the silky sea-green hair skitter down her neck and collarbone, skimming the sides of her breasts before her skilled fingers traced the pert pink nipple that was eager for attention. Her index finger and thumb circled it before lightly rubbing it, her mouth eager to explore more of the skin she missed contact with so much.

With a last loving kiss to her lips, Haruka turned her head to regard Michiru's neck, running her tongue down its length before kissing it gently, then nipping it carefully. Her hands were preoccupied with massaging the back of her love's shapely neck and teasing her nipple, and using the pad of her thumb to flick it much like her tongue would do shortly. At the gasp and soft moan escaping her koibito's flushed lips, Haruka smiled against the lovely skin of her neck and bit down with a little more force, greatly enjoying the reaction her ministrations were evoking.

At length, Haruka's hands slid reverently down the slender but shapely frame she knew so well. She was no artist, but she could draw Michiru's body in her sleep, she had the planes and angles, curves and contours, memorized like a piano piece. Her warm tongue flicked out against the fragrant skin, and left the painter's neck for the moment, deciding to tease the pert nipples her fingertips had so sweetly tortured previously, her tongue circling one pink peak before her mouth closed around it, sucking gently. Michiru's skin felt divine beneath her touch, and Haruka had to gasp when Michiru's questing hands cupped the underside of the racer's breasts, her nails barely scratching along the flesh there, following the line of her ribcage and up to graze her now alert nipples.

Haruka complied with a gentle raking of teeth over a sensitive nipple, and used her slim fingers for sinful purpose, now gliding over a curved hip, and down creamy thighs. Kami-sama she loved to watch Michiru climb, she mused, letting her blazing mouth follow the path of her talented hands, pausing to lock gazes with her love as she began to gently circle the wetness with her tongue, and to enter her swiftly with a finger.

Michiru called out, arching her back hard, and using a hand to tangle in Haruka's disheveled blonde hair, an unspoken plea for further contact.

"Did you miss me?" Haruka teased, now concentrating the tip of her tongue on the electrified apex of nerves, lying hidden beneath folds of rose-soft flesh. She smirked into the dark at the heady moan that escaped Michiru's parted, panting lips.

"Please don't stop," Michiru beseeched softly, her hips moving against the hands and mouth of her devilish lover, nigh to desperate for release.

Haruka responded with the addition of a second finger, and redoubling the speed of her tongue, now sucking lightly on the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Michiru's hips worked furiously beneath her, and she had to hold them down a little to avoid any injury to either of them, shifting just enough to nudge a trembling leg over her shoulder. The blonde used every bit of leverage to her distinct advantage, increasing the intensity and momentum of her movements, grinning wickedly when a low, feline sound of pleasure reverberated through Michiru's throat.

"I need to touch you," Michiru complained, her voice breathy from need.

"Not yet Michi," Haruka replied, rocking her love's hips up, and curling the fingers deep within the liquid heat, keeping them in that position as she continued plunging into the volatile core.

"Haruka," Michiru muttered, her apt tongue seeming to fumble with the syllables, then gasped and all but screamed her name again, as she saw white light behind her eyes, and spiraled upwards in a fraction of a second, before shooting back down, shaking slightly, her arms wrapped around Haruka's shoulders like a life-line.

"Yes?" said blonde quipped, nuzzling her neck affectionately, and whispering for her ears only," it's amazing the things I can do when I'm not even here, ne koibito?"

Michiru blushed three shades of pink and quieted her playful partner with a kiss. She could feel the waves of energy radiating from Haruka's passion tensed body, and slanted her mouth a little more over those teasing lips, her hands taking possession of the toned frame beside her, gently pushing the racer onto her back.

Haruka saw the flash in Michiru's eyes, and felt a long, pull in her innermost places, a heady rush of anticipation. Her head fell back when a set of teeth began to nibble at her neck, and she audibly moaned when two knowing fingers buried themselves in her without warning. Her slender hips moved of their own volition, and she bit her lower lip in lust when Michiru slid down her torso, and paused just above her sex that ached with need to lock heated gazes with her lover.

"It's your turn Haruka," that silky voice told her, punctuated by a stroke of her velvety tongue, and Haruka saw no reason whatsoever to object.

La fin

Well that marks the end of my first ever "lemon" for fanfiction, though I tend to refer to them as "Sprites". It just makes sense to me. I hope you enjoyed. Neptune's Mask


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